


The Royal Purge

by Egyuxin



Series: The Royal Purge [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Gen, Nobility, POV Multiple, Rebellion, Royalty, Treachery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 22:07:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20071351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Egyuxin/pseuds/Egyuxin
Summary: The Royal Purge is an annual banquet in which those disloyal to the crown are executed. However, nothing is ever as simple as it seems. Bound together by an intricate web of connections, a collection of souls will find their fates entwined as the spirit of rebellion begins to stir within the ranks of the nobility. With factions on both sides converging, will justice or cruelty rule the day?





	1. Prologue

The crystal shards dangling from the intricate chandeliers sway lightly in the breeze from the figures brushing past the imposing double doors. A soft twinkling sound reverberates off the lofty dome of the ceiling. Rows of polished glass window panes line either side of the long hall, and streams of sunbeams filter through, washing the space in a gilded light. Masked personages shuffle wordlessly past one another: a sea of jewel tones and plumage. They are careful to project an air of grace, folding their hands neatly in their laps after taking a seat at an elaborate banquet table topped with pearly dishware and gold silverware. By this time, everyone is seated. A few cast disdainful glances around at the others, yet most simply elect to sit and keep to their own thoughts. 

Wordlessly, a tall woman with a chestnut bun and a long, white, feathered dress enters. Her heels click as she moves to stand at the head of the table. Her piercing grey eyes scan the crowd. Everyone stands, yet only a few dare to defiantly meet her gaze. Her scarlet lips curve into a smirk as she unfurls a parchment scroll. Some of the younger in attendance begin to shuffle nervously from foot to foot. Most express their tension in subtle ways: a clenched jaw or a catch of breath. Though the woman is smiling, her eyes are devoid of mirth. “Greetings, nobility of the kingdom! I do hope you had no trouble arriving here? As you well know by now, I am the advisor to the throne Lady Alexandra, and I welcome you to the Royal Banquet!”

By now, a deathly silence was holding the room hostage. No one dared to make a sound. Lady Alexandra, keenly aware of their unease, laughed daintily in mocking. “Come now, no need to look so afraid! If you serve the throne well, YOU HAVE NOTHING TO FEAR.”

Though this did nothing to assuage the tension, the nobles haltingly returned to their seats. With a snap of her fingers, servants bustled out with platters of food for each guest. Her nails were painted a deep crimson which some secretly likened to the copious amounts of blood spilled by her hand. There was not a soul alive in the room who did not fear Lady Alexandra. She was an efficient and cunning force to the nobles, so trusted by the throne that she could have anyone’s head without explanation or trial. On paper, she was the advisor, in practice, the executioner. Her justice was swift and absolute. None could escape. 

The Royal Purge, as it was unofficially known, consisted of a banquet hosted by Lady Alexandra for the nobility. Each guest would receive a meal specifically allotted to them. Then they would wait. Slowly but surely people would begin to drop dead. No one was permitted to move, and the bodies were to be left in their seats until the conclusion of the ritual. The room would wait in silence until the last of the “traitors” had slumped over in their seats before being dismissed back to their estates. The meal consisted of many courses, and a noble could be poisoned during any one of them. It was rumored that every year a few elderly ones would end up dying just from the sheer stress of the situation. 

Slowly, the nobles all take their first bite.


	2. Claudine

Unbeknownst to Lady Alexandra and certainly to the other guests, a spy had infiltrated the banquet. Hidden behind a teal, feathered masquerade half-mask, Lady Claudette III sat coldly observing the scene. Or rather, Claudine Annett did. There had never been a Claudette, at least not in this kingdom. Indeed, there was a Duchess Claudine from the foreign Annett family who had married into a prestigious household in the kingdom, but she had perished alongside the rest when their estate had burnt down years ago. At least that is what Claudine allowed everyone to believe. 

It had not been difficult to forge papers denoting her as a lesser noble under another name nor did she lack the resources to assume such a role. In fact, due to the sheer number of lesser nobles, no one had even noticed her arrival in their ranks. Besides, she would be less conspicuous if she commanded less power and notability. As there were only a handful of duchesses, returning to her former title would have signed away her life for the fire all those years ago was no accident. No, that too had been a purge as well. When an entire household needed to be scorched off the pages of history, an accident like that would do. After all, there was no way to punish the traitorous servants and staff of a reactive household at a Royal Banquet. Even if the family themselves had been taken care of, the servants were likely already spreading their seeds of dissent throughout the earth of the hierarchy. Exterminating the menace completely with a fire was much more efficient and thorough. Far better to uproot those ideas and any potential tools before decimating the source. 

Claudine had the advantage of witnessing all that occurred after the completion of such a purge and thus knew more than anyone living or dead about the method and tactics behind such an operation. Luckily, as Duchess Claudine, she had always donned a powdered wig, so she did not have to go to great pains to conceal her identity. She simply grew out her long coppery tresses and remembered to cover her one red eye with a mask always. Her other cornflower colored eye was not uncommon and thus was left alone. With this, Claudine kept an alert attention on the rest of the banquet. Slowly, her coral lips slid into a small smirk. “The hand of fate will guide me to its conclusion: salvation or execution. Very soon I shall know which.”


	3. Oscar

While most of the guests trembled with fear, eighteen-year-old Count Oscar Wellington was still. It was not for lack of nervous energy, however; on the contrary, internally he was positively manic. A single bead of sweat ran down his spine, and he kept his eyes fixed on his hands. Stay calm, he reminded himself. Surely, they would have executed you already if they were aware of your involvement. Yet his melancholic temperament prevented his mind from straying too far from the thought. In fact, as he attempted to avoid it, Oscar only found himself trapped deeper in the labyrinth. 

As he closed his eyes, the vision returned in full force. The pitiful broken form of his mentor. Eyes empty and sunken, skin a grey pallor, mouth parted in one last desperate cry, Duke Isaac Hale had never looked so utterly defeated in all the time Oscar had known him. Still, he had an air of heroism about him; he died with dignity and had refused to offer up any names of his fellow conspirators. Thus, Lady Alexandra had had no choice but to place the sole blame and punishment on his shoulders. Oscar had stood by the servants as Duke Isaac hung like a marionette from the gallows. The image haunts him even now. 

Oscar had been taken in by the Duke after he was orphaned at the age of twelve. His parents, the Count and Countess Wellington, had been lost at sea on a diplomatic mission due to an ill-maintained ship. Lady Alexandra had swiftly executed the crew who had cost the kingdom two loyal public servants. Duke Hale was in his early thirties and made his home in an imposing stone manor on the cliffside. He had no living relatives, and little was known about the enigmatic recluse. Oscar had been hesitant, and indeed, their interactions were colored by a terse and gruff manner at first. However, as Oscar began to make a home there, he had found the man was not cold at all. He treated his servants as old friends rather than laborers and was compassionate under his surly aura. After learning of Oscar’s formidable memory, he had quickly put him to work in bookkeeping the nobles of the kingdom. After spending hours pouring over lists and family genealogy, Oscar had become well-versed in just about everyone in the ranks. “Just as a precaution,” was what the Duke had always told him. Sure enough, after his sixteenth birthday, the reason had become apparent. Isaac had gathered Oscar and all his servants around a round table in the depths of the manor and had imparted to them the secret behind the royal family. All, both out of trust in the Duke and conviction in his ideals, had formed a pact to undermine the royals from within. 

The group had been successful at first, and their organization and camaraderie had served to strengthen their endeavors. Unfortunately, the purge of the Duchess Annett’s estate had prompted unannounced royal inspections in all noble households of the kingdoms. Duke Hale had done well to hide his activities and schemes, but it all fell apart when Lady Alexandra had ordered torture on Oscar. He would never tell, Isaac knew this, and yet he had willingly surrendered himself for the safety of his adopted son and servants. Singlehandedly, he had cast all the blame on himself and had convinced the inspectors of Oscar and the servants’ ignorance of his plots. Lady Alexandra was skeptical of Oscar’s innocence, but the loyal service of his parents had convinced her to spare him. Upon Isaac’s execution, Oscar had become master of the manor. Out of respect for the former duke, he had elected to keep the lower rank of his parents, that of a count, and had been left alone ever since. Due to the circumstances, he had been excused from the Royal Banquet in his seventeenth year but was expected to attend the current one as representative of his house. 

Peering around the grand hall, his eyes were drawn to a masked figure with flowing coppery hair. Lady Claudette had appeared to emerge in the ranks out of thin air. Oscar had all of the nobles memorized from his diligent bookkeeping, and there had been no trace of any Lady Claudette until about a month ago. Oscar presumed she had her reasons and out of the memory of his late mentor, elected to refrain from drawing attention to the inconsistency. 


End file.
